


"You Promised."

by AmmoLovesJyron



Series: Soz Sam... [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2x11 Playthings, Dean being cocky as usual, Headaches, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sam crying, Sickfic, Tears, but it keeps Sam focused, emeto, hurtfic, puke, s2/e11, sam talking abt suicide (minor), so I guess it's a good thing??, supernatural fic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmmoLovesJyron/pseuds/AmmoLovesJyron
Summary: Basically Season 2 Episode 11, but with more emeto and hurt/comfortPrompt: "Dean, dad told you to do it you have to."





	"You Promised."

**Author's Note:**

> It’s well known between the brothers that Dean is pretty partial to some heavy liquor, while Sam steers away from it in fear of triggering his anxiety or giving away his… y’know, his secret. Should I say secretS? Idk.  
> So when Dean comes back from doing some research and Sam’s drunk, it’s fair to say he freaks out a little.  
> Pretty much 2x11, but a little more sickfic and emotional hurt/comfort because uhhhh… *falls to knees and grovels* I’m sorry, Sam! I had to, I had no choice!

“My _destiny,_ Dean!”

Dean sighed, reaching for his little brother.

“Okay, time for bed Sasquatch.”

With a heavy hand Dean lifted Sam from the chair he’d been sitting in, directing him toward one of the single beds in the room. Sam tried to shake him off but Dean’s grip was strong, so Sam turned to him. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“I need you to watch out for me.”

“I always do-“

“-no no no I meant _watch out_ _for me_ , alright? And if I ever… turn into something that I’m not… you have to kill me.”

“Sam-“

“-Dean, dad told you to do it you have to.”

“Yeah well dad’s an ass.”

With a shove Dean landed Sam’s ass on the bed, Sam quickly rolling over on to his stomach. Dean lay down too, listening for a moment. They laid there, silent, before Sam began to sob. Dean sighed and moved his head to face his brother’s body.

“C’mon man, it’s okay.”

“I don’t want to do what that _thing_ has for me. I- I’ve never even shot someone!”

“I know Sam.”

“Just because I’ve got this psychic thing goin’ on, who says I’ll be a killer? I- I don’t- I don’t want to-“

“-Sam for the love of god shut up already.”

Dean wasn’t fed up with Sam’s blubbering- well, maybe a little. Mainly, he wanted Sam to stop digging himself into the hole he was falling into. When Dean snapped the room fell silent again, except a couple sniffles from Sam, before he reached out with his casted arm.

“Dean?”

“Fine. But don’t you dare cuddle.”

Sam scooted over to lie in front of him on Dean’s bed, the single barely fitting Sam so Dean had no idea how he was going to be able to sleep. Once Sam was lying next to his brother he was out like a light, snoring softly into the pillow. Dean huffed and reached over him to grab the pillow from Sam’s bed, putting it down beside his own to settle. He lay away from Sam, who usually tried to cuddle when he was drunk and closed his eyes, begging sleep to come.

 

When it hit 5am Dean had had enough of trying to sleep with his giant of a brother in the single bed. He sat up, holding his hand on Sam’s shoulder to keep him where he was, slipping off the bed and opening the door silently. It had become a talent of his over the past eighteen months to get out of bed, dress and leave without waking Sam. Sam was a light sleeper due to his anxiety, so Dean did his best to sneak out as fast but as quiet as he could.

 

Sherwin was packing already when Dean made his way downstairs, seemingly looking for something. He spotted Sherwin and sat on the seat in front of him, yawning.

“Any chance of a cup of coffee around here?”

“Sure thing.”

Sherwin pointed at the coffee machine to their right and Dean thanked him, going over and starting the first cup- his own. Sherwin continued his job, but he seemed to notice something about Dean.

“Rough sleep?”

“That wouldn’t be half of it,” Dean mumbled, wincing at his side- Sam had shoved his bony elbow there multiple times in the night, he was sure it was bruised. He finished one cup of coffee and started on Sam’s, despite his knowledge that Sam wouldn’t be up for a while. When he was hungover you had to give him time or he'd never get out of it.

“Was it the death?”

Dean shook his head, fixing the lid on to the two takeaway coffee cups.

“No, that… didn’t faze me. Thanks for the coffee.”

He was gone after that, back upstairs.

 

Sam wasn’t in bed anymore when Dean got to their room. With a quick glance around Dean figured out what had happened and smirked, glancing into the bathroom.

“I guess mixing whiskey and Jaegar wasn’t a good idea.”

Sam groaned, resting his head on his casted arm that was leaning on the toilet seat.

“I can still taste the tequila.”

Dean grimaced, the scent of the alcohol getting to his tastebuds.

“Me too.”

He put down the coffee cups and approached the bathroom, grimacing at the smell.

“Oof, Jesus.”

Sam made a groaning sound, lifting his head from his arm to spit.

“Ugh.”

“And whose fault is this?” Dean asked with an amused smile on his face. While he was irritated he knew what would happen if he showed Sam that and decided to take the _this is funny, right?_ Route. It was a well known one to the brothers unfortunately, but when Sam couldn’t even manage a half hearted smile Dean’s smile fell into a frown as he approached the bathroom, choosing to sit beside Sam on the tiled bathroom floor despite the stench of regurgitated alcohol.

“Mine, Dean. It’s mine.”

Sam sat up on his knees again, spitting before he puked pure stomach bile. Dean grimaced, turning his head away as he put his hand on Sam’s back.

“C’mon man, breathe. We got a lead.”

“What?”

“I think I have an idea of- when was the last time you ate something?”

“I- uhm.”

Sam fell quiet, falling from his knees to sit on his feet. Dean sighed, getting up. As he left the bathroom Sam called out.

“Dean please don’t go, don’t leave me man. I need you, don’t-“

“-Sammy quiet, I’m just getting something to wrap you in; you’re shaking.”

Sam did indeed go quiet except for the low rumble of his dry heaving, Dean still slightly grossed out as he grabbed a light blanket from the cupboard in the room. He walked back into the bathroom and Sam’s shivering broad shoulders tensed as he leaned over the bowl.

“Oh my god…”

“Deep breaths Sammy, you’re hungover. You’re not dying.”

Sam sent Dean a withering look at that before his face visibly paled even more, and he scrunched up his nose in pain. Dean held the back of his neck, tugging the blanket a little tighter.

“You need to relax; you’re freaking out and making yourself sicker.”

“What? No, Dean I-“

“-look at you man, I’m 80 percent sure you’re having a panic attack.”

Sam’s eyes shot closed at the pain in his head- he half expected a vision to start but it didn’t, and he was confused for a moment before it reduced to heavy pulsing. When he opened his eyes to glance at Dean, all he saw was a blurred area that he hoped was his brother. When he made a move from the toilet to get up the blur moved, holding him under his arms.

“Sammy no, you need to sit down. Just for a little longer.”

Sam protested, shaking his head but the figure helping him lightly pushed until he was back on the floor, leaning on the toilet bowl. When fingers touched his palm Sam tensed up, trying to close his eyes again but the fingers locked on to his good hand, giving a squeeze.

“Sammy look at me man, look at me. Does your head hurt?”

“Mm.”

It was the best Sam could do to respond, but it was apparently enough for Dean to be confident of what was going on.

“Sam you with me man?”

When Sam stayed quiet, focusing on breathing evenly as sweat dripped down his forehead and his face turned red, Dean stepped up.

“Sam it’s okay, you’re good. Take deep breaths, slow and steady.”

But Sam wasn’t good, nor was he okay.

“Dean…”

“Sammy?”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s back, trying to figure out what was going on. Sam squeezed his eyes shut when the headache got more intense again, followed by it slowly receding. Dean’s hand kept a light grip on his little brother’s shirt, eyes watching him intensely.

“Okay c’mon, I think we’re done in here for now.”

Sam’s entire body was exhausted from the vomiting and panic attack, so when Dean tried to help him up Sam just slumped into his arms, head resting on his shoulder. Dean huffed, an irritated but fond look on his face when he pulled Sam’s arms around him.

“C’mon Sasquatch.”

 

They were out the back of the property trying to search for some more clues (following Dean’s dud lead actually) when Sam had gone quiet behind his brother. When Sam finally spoke up he was shaky, and Dean spun to face his little brother.

“Dean, I…”

“Sam? You good?”

“Dean I’m gonna puke.”

Dean jumped back just in time for Sam to practically leap into a bush nearby, his stomach tensing under his hoodie before he gagged. Dean’s nose scrunched up in disgust, but he felt for his brother who was scared out of his mind. He grabbed Sam by the hood of his jacket to keep him stable, sighing.

“Remember that one time you puked in dad’s car and he was so pissed? Like, actually white hot angry-“

“Dean?”

“Mm?”

“Not the time.”

Dean winced, chuckling to himself.

“Sorry.”

Sam gagged again and finally brought up the little piece of toast he’d eaten for breakfast, the taste not that great second time round. Dean grimaced, looking away.

“What the hell is going on with you dude?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. At first I thought it was just a hangover, but it’s lasted way too long-“

Dean’s eyes widened as he realised what could be going on.

“Sam c’mon, we gotta get back to our room. I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Just a sec.”

A couple more spits, a gag, one more retch and Sam was good, standing to his full height. Dean made a face at him.

“I preferred it when you were short, Long Legs.”

Sam chuckled, following Dean back up to their room.

 

“I thought so!”

Sam was back in the bathroom with his face buried in the toilet bowl while Dean did research on his suspicions, so when he called out Sam jumped about three foot in the air and spun his head to glare at his brother.

“You thought so?”

“I knew it.”

Dean skidded into the bathroom, grimacing at the smell before sitting beside his brother. Sam regarded him with caution in his brown puppy eyes, wanting to just sleep forever but when Dean was like this there was no way in hell he would be able to.

“Look.”

Dean handed him a book and Sam skimmed over it, his blurry vision from crying and puking not helping but he understood enough to get an idea of what was going on.

“Are you saying-“

“-demons, people with demon ancestry of some sort… the alcohol makes them really sick, it reacts against their blood! Dude-“

“-I have demon blood in me… ohgodI’mgonnapukeagain.”

Sam threw himself over the toilet for the umpteenth time, his stomach heaving from emptiness but also the need to be sick. His stomach cramped, the muscles cramping up and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Dean watched him with concern, sighing.

“Okay Sam, okay. C’mon, you’re fine. It’s just because you’re freaking out.”

“The thing we’re trying to kill, the thing _dad_ was trying to kill, I’m one of them and I should be _fine_? Oh yeah, I’m fucking-“

“-language, baby bro.”

When Dean sent his brother a smirk Sam just glared right back, head appearing for that split second before going back to the bowl. Dean rubbed his back, leaning over to grab a plastic bag.

“Look, let’s make a deal. You come with me, back to bed where you can get some sleep, and I’ll be there to catch anything with this bag, okay?”

“No deal, I- I just… m’so nauseous.”

“The book says it should wear off soon, just give it a couple hours. You’re empty Sam, nothing’s even coming out.”

“I- I know, but-“

“-no buts!”

Dean then chuckled to himself, Sam rolling his eyes. That hurt his head though, and he put his palm against his forehead to try and ease the pain. When it didn’t work, he was shocked and relieved when he felt a cold cloth on the back of his neck.

“I gotcha Sammy, I gotcha. You need sleep; you’ll start feeling better soon.”

“I hope so.”

With trust in his brother (despite various pranks over the years), Sam let himself be helped to bed, the blankets tucked over his lanky body, tucked up near his chin.

“Need anything?”

“I’m good.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna go have a look around so if you need anything call me.”

Just as Dean reached for his jacket, Sam rustled, trying to call out.

“Wait, Dean…”

“Sammy?”

Dean turned back to his brother at the tone in his voice, going to sit on the end of the bed. Sam sniffed, before a tear slipped down his cheek.

“What if- what if it was me, that- that killed mom, and Jess? What if it was the _other_ part of me, the one dad warned you about?”

He took Dean by his arm, making him looking him in the eyes.

“You promised, Dean.”

Dean pulled off smoothly, grabbing his jacket to hide the worry he felt toward his little brother's sad tendencies.

“Get some sleep Sammy.”

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* look Sam, I'm really not that sorry, I just- don't give me that attitude! Jeez dude, and people say you're the nice brother.  
> *Dean is offended*  
> *Sam has left the chat*


End file.
